Every now and again some sort of presence starts to build up around a
band, the beginnings of legend. Joy-ridden cars and burned out wrecks,
physical assaults, strange sexual tension, picnics in Yackandandah? And
they call this the Blues?

From Chicken Wire to the Surf, Stormcellar are going places they plainly
shouldn’t and playing from a spectrum of Roots and Blues that covers 100
years, spanning Africa to the Pacific, with Chicago, Celtic Riffs and
the Balmain Delta thrown in for good measure.
They’ve been Torched in Thirroul, Bitten in Albury and Avalon,
Threatened by Bikers in Beechworth, Lost in Melbourne, Confused on the
Central Coast and Dry Humped in Wagga.